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Then she went to the old spinet and sat down and sang:

My Lenore, how dark and drear

The burden of daylight’s bringing!

No music of chiming hours I hear,

No birds in the sunlight singing.

Sweet Lenore, O lady mine,

Bright-eyed, as the day wanes weaker,

Now pledge me deep in the golden wine

Night pours from her fragrant beaker.

The violets watch us, blue in the plain,

Not a star our secret misses.

Kiss me, Lenore, and kiss me again

And give me a thousand kisses

The slender tones sang through the room, when she stopped.

She listened, but could not hear his footstep. He was sitting in one of the big chairs and did not move.

She looked at him for a moment over her shoulder. Then she rose and closed the instrument, with as much noise as she could:

“Good-night, Cordt.”

“Good-night.”

Then she turned very red and very pale and went away with moist and angry eyes.

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Fru Adelheid was icy cold and had drawn her chair as near the chimney as she could.

It blazed and flared in there; the red glow scorched her face and her white gown. But she kept on adding logs to the fire and could not get warm.